


Grant Me a Peaceful Sleep

by zeeazn5525



Category: Original Work
Genre: Also unsure of rating so I'm tagging explicit to be safe, Elements of immortality??, Neglect, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tagging more for triggers though, Violence Against Elders/Women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeeazn5525/pseuds/zeeazn5525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had a nightmare - this nightmare happened in the span of 40 real life minutes - and haven't been able to shake it from my head, so I just made it into a short story... as one does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grant Me a Peaceful Sleep

"The leader of the theatre groups would make grand speeches about the virtues of the art to his men. He would often liken their group to military troops, claiming that there was just as much blood and sacrifice in this art. 'But men will remain victors, we will remain the heroes of the legends. I solemnly swear that none of my men will become a shameful sacrifice, on stage or off,' he would be known to roar to the crowds." She listened idly, drifting in and out of consciousness as her history professor rambled on about old timey theatre groups.

"Then who played the enemy, you ask?" She chuckled. No one seemed particularly interested in knowing. "The elderly and women. These big, burly men dressed the weak and helpless in enemy clothes and mercilessly beat, tortured and injured them on stage - all to the applause of an equally sick crowd." Most of the class continued chattering inattentively, but a few people gasped and sat silent. She felt sad, but every lesson sort of melted into the same: people were terrible.

“These roles were mostly reserved for the elderly, as women proved more useful…” His voice began to blend in with the constant chatter. “...prostitution became…” She tried to listen, but her eyelids felt heavy with the lack of sleep. “...called him Mr. Bur…” She had been having some bad insomnia recently. “...or the Unforgiving……”

She didn't know when she fell asleep, but when she woke, people were talking in avid discussions, but none of their faces looked familiar, except one girl in front of her. She tapped her on the shoulder and asked if class had ended, to which the girl shrugged in response. Her eyes slipped closed again, drowsiness magnified by confusion.

When she woke again, the girl in front of her was staring at her, slightly bewildered. There was a professor blabbering on about music composition - she was definitely in the wrong place. She worked on creating a plan of retreat with the girl, but it was evident that there was no way they could get out without disturbing the class. They had to cross the room right behind the prof and right in front of the projector. She wanted to disappear out of embarrassment, but the class was surprisingly unreactive. She spotted a few faces of people she hadn't seen since high school. She waved at one among them, and he waved back excitedly before she exited.

Right outside the classroom door, she ran into her best friend from grade 9, Jessica. She hadn't changed much, perhaps wearing warmer coloured make-up than the black she used to apply carefully every morning.

"Hey, what are you doing here? Taking classes too?" she asked as she ran to hug the skinny woman. The last time she checked, Jessica had opted to jump straight into work after graduating from high school.

Jessica shook her head gently, smiling happily as she replied, “Just running a few errands.”

“Oh okay, well I don’t have class for another while so I guess I’ll tag along?” Jessica seemed a little nervous at that, agreeing hesitantly before leading the way. It was only after walking for 30 seconds in silence that she realized she had nothing to talk to Jessica about, and suddenly this seemed like a terrible idea. Jessica also walked exceptionally fast, pacing away at a quick speed until she turned a corner and disappeared.

She tried to find Jessica by looking around, but to no avail. She stood in the hallway, a little unsure of what to do with herself. A burly guy pushed past her, opening a heavy-looking metal door that she had never seen before, even though she had passed through this hallway every day for years now. From the open door came loud music, bright but warm flashing lights, and a voice that was distinctly Jessica’s.

She caught the door before it creaked closed and followed the man inside. The man had instantly been tugged aside. She stood in the doorway, slack jawed and gaping at the scene before her. Around fifteen beds were pushed together in haphazard formations, each with two or three people on them, their moans of ecstasy echoing in the smoky room. It was hard to see in the light, the images flashed in front of her eyes - as if she had stepped into a stop-motion world. But she made out Jessica’s figure on the middle bed protruding from the line against the wall, emitting obscene sounds as a middle-aged man pounded into her mouth.

Jessica was dressed in a skimpy black leather monokini, keeping a hand on the man’s thigh while the other ring-adorned hand rubbed circles between open legs. The other girls seemed to be in various states of writhing and pleasured, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. It was jarring, but she couldn’t deny that it was arousing. The illusion quickly shattered as she felt hands on her own hips.

They made quick work of her jeans, popping the button and unzipping the zipper in the same motion, before trying to push the restrictive fabric down the length of her legs. She stood, frozen from shock while the man lifted her feet through the jean legs before whispering huskily in her ear: “Let’s get a bed, baby girl.”

She finally regained a little sense, pushing him off her, giving him a forceful and immediate ‘no’. She got a good look at him - he couldn’t be older than 22 - and felt sick, because he looked so familiar but gave her phantom pains, the possibility that he had harmed her immensely in a past life floated in the back of her mind. He put on a mean smirk, looking at her as if she were just his play thing. Arms gripped her tightly as she felt his breath over the tip of her ear, causing her to shiver involuntarily. “I like me a fiesty one,” he rumbled, “I’ll do you right here then.”

He proceeded to drop to his knees, grabbing her by the thighs with bruising touches, sinking his teeth into her inner thigh before sucking.

“You can’t… do that,” she said weakly, trying not to scream from the burning pain that radiated from his every touch.

“Yes I can,” he said, tugging her underwear down as he spoke. “I own you, I own all of you.”

Her eyes widened. “Since when? You don’t own me.”

That seemed to anger him. He rubbed her roughly between her folds before slipping a finger in, causing her to scream in pain. She wasn’t ready, and she could feel the nail stabbing and scratching her inner walls. “Don’t fucking sass me, bitch.” He relented from his rough touches to turn her around. He stood to pull at her shirt collar, revealing the skin on her right shoulder blade. “See, the mark is right- What the fuck? Someone bring me the brander, _this slut isn’t marked_.” Heeled footsteps echoed loudly against the linoleum floor at the command, quickly returning to the man before pattering away again.

She attempted to run then, but he expected it from her, right arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her against him again. “Where are you going, my naughty girl? You know you want to be one of my angels… I’ll make it happen.” He smirked against her skin as she breathed shakily, squeezing her eyes shut helplessly to wait for the burn of the brander. Even then, the pain was excruciating, the heat of the instrument literally burning a hole into her shoulder blade.

It was a short second of pain though, before the brander dropped to the floor in a clang, and he pressed heavily against her, almost knocking her over as his body slumped to the floor. She surged forward in surprise, horror and relief mixing into a feeling of sickness in her gut. Jessica, with money sticking out from her bra and spurts of cum in her hair, motioned for her to run, dropping the club that she held in her hand as three buff men surrounded her to take her away.

She gave her a grateful look before she ran, flinging the door open and running like her life depended on it. In a way, it did.

 

* * *

 

5:03 am. She sat down on the dingy guest bed, finally home from the disastrous day. How the time had passed so fast, was beyond her. Her brother was still awake, idly watching videos with the exchange student that had just arrived that day. He would be staying with her family for a few months while he took classes at a nearby school. She and him had talked before meeting, and were already pretty good friends. So when she walked in, nude from the waist down with a tear-stained face, he was immediately at her side.

“What happened?” he asked in his thick accent. She shook her head - she didn’t want to talk about it. He acknowledged that, wrapping slim arms around her shoulders, holding her close. She shrank down and away from the contact, wincing at the pain that shot through her shoulder from being touched there.

He gently peeled away the clothing that covered her shoulders, gasping when he saw the small mark that was left on her right shoulder blade. He gave it a gentle kiss, gauging her response before trailing small kisses up the side of her neck and settling his arms around her waist instead. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered reassuringly, still clueless as to what had happened, but to her relief, he didn’t ask.

“Well, I’m still not used to things here… It would make me feel better if you could sleep with me tonight.” She smiled softly, knowing he was giving her an excuse to seek the comfort she needed.

“Well, you know I can’t say no to a friend in need,” she replied, feeling better already. Ready to crawl in bed, she told her brother to go to bed.

“Why?”

“For one, it’s already 5 in the morning. And this isn’t your room!”

He pouted. “No, I want to watch one more video.” She was inexplicably filled with rage. She just wanted him to go so she could have some private time with the exchange student and the day had worn her patience extremely thin.

“GET OUT. GO TO SLEEP.” Noises arose from the other side of the house. Lights flickered on moments later.

“Kevin! What are you doing still up? Get to bed!” her dad hollered. She looked at Kevin with a victorious smirk.

“Okay okay,” he said before shuffling out of the room.

“Tell your sister to go to bed too!” her dad boomed again. Kevin’s head popped in to stick a tongue out at her before slipping away.

“I guess I should go..” she murmured, but the man that was still wrapped around her did not let go.

“Stay a little longer. At least until I know you’re actually okay,” he told her honestly. She gave him a genuine smile.

“I’ll be fine, feeling better already.” She meant it too, the gentle way he treated her wrapped her in a bubble of safety, righting all the wrongs she felt throughout the day. She gave him a thankful and reassuring peck on the cheek before getting up to leave. This time he let her go.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t expected to see her brother when she opened the door to her bedroom that she shared with her grandmother. The rage swelled within her again, readying to yell at him to get out again. But when he looked up at her, she softened. He had been crying, tears silently rolling down his cheeks.

“She says she’s tired of everything, she’s done,” he choked out, pointing in their grandma’s direction. Her grandmother laid in bed, breathing heaving a little as she looked bitterly empty and disappointed. She looked away from her wordlessly, refusing to speak with anyone except Kevin - who, according to her grandmother, was the only one that still remotely cared about her. The sleeping pills laid on the bedside table, waiting to be consumed. “She knows she’s not going to make it this time, she doesn’t want to suffer anymore...” She thought back to how her grandmother had been complaining recently about feeling like shit again, as she did back before the surgery mere months ago.

She collapsed at the edge of the bed, crying and blubbering about second chances and not giving up just yet. Her thoughts were in a panic, trying to search for any reason to pull her grandmother away from the metaphorical edge. She couldn’t deal with having to say goodbye, couldn’t deal with knowing there was still a chance and not taking it. Her grandmother turned away, small tears trickling from the corners of her eyes, but still set on going out on her own accord, still determined to be rid of the pointless suffering. Her heart had been acting up again, causing problems all over her body. The surgery had left her dominant hand paralyzed, and life was more of a struggle than it was worth. Her only hope was that she would still be around the people that she loved, but she was ignored, day in and day out, by the very people she tried so hard to cherish. She was sick and tired, and she knew her grandchildren knew it too, better than anyone in the world.

“You said you wanted to visit them for their tenth anniversary right? At least wait for that! Who’s going to go clean up their graves if you die? You know mom and dad won’t..” she suddenly piped up, the idea finally hitting her in the head. Even though it was a terrible thing to say, she knew it would at least delay things by a couple months… She could figure out how to talk her grandmother out of it later. Her grandma seemed to contemplate it, pondering for a good two minutes before deciding that “Fine, I’ll wait it out for them.” She was then urged to bed - she only had three hours before she had to wake up for school again.

 

“There’s going to be a movie shoot in our neighbourhood today, are you going to stay and take a look?” her mom asked in the morning.

Her dreams had been a mess of nightmares, and she really wasn’t in the mood to see some movie set, no matter how important the people were. She shook her head and left, dragging herself mindlessly to school and through classes.

Between narcoleptic moments, she tried to sort out her thoughts - tried to list all the ways she could make her grandmother stay. By the end of the day, she had a decent plan and was ready to set it in motion, excitedly bounding up the stairs to their room, ready to face the wrinkled face of empty disappointment and change it back into the warm, smiling one she knew from her childhood.

What she was presented with, she was not prepared for. The frail woman laid on the far side of the bed, a tray laid beside her with garlic toast and a large jar of water. The first thing she noticed was the bandage on her right eye, the splotches of bright red extremely visible on the hospital white of the cotton, purple blossoming out from the edges of the bandage like a flower hidden behind stiff fog. She wanted to look away, but her eyes kept her staring, dragging her vision lower, across more bruises, and the other _big_ change. Her pants were deflated on one side, unsupported by anything underneath, clearly outlining the stump that used to support her right leg. She wanted to cry, wanted the entire scene to change within the blink of an eye. She felt positively sick to her stomach.

Her grandmother looked at her with her one eye, groaning from the pain. Her look was agonizing and questioning - _Why? Why did you prolong my existence so I could meet such a fate?_ It’s what they seemed to translate, and she had no answer, standing there, wide-eyed and shocked. Her mother came in then, slightly bruised herself, telling her that the movie group had insisted on using both of them for filming. She said a man had punched her grandmother down a flight of stairs and the doctors did their best to patch her up. She said that her grandmother probably wasn’t going to make it, but they were going to try and wait it out anyways.

Time stopped for the young woman. She watched her mother walk out silently, cold and uncaring. She watched her grandmother open her mouth to speak, for no words to come out. Even as she tried to clear her throat, no sound came. Her eye stared, unwavering, filling her granddaughter with guilt as it seemed to beg for an end to the misery.

She now regretted her decision to stop her grandmother from ending everything the night before - at least it would have been in relative comfort, it would have been on her own terms. Now she didn’t seem so ready to die, but not so willing to live either. She passed her grandmother the jar of water when she reached for it. The old woman lapped water from it weakly, sound squeaking slowly from her feeble pipes.

“Eat…You… must be… hungry…” she spoke, ever-worrying about her granddaughter.

“It’s okay, you eat,” she replied, trying not to reveal how broken she felt inside.

“No… Can’t… even… swallow…”

That’s when the thought hit her, that even if her grandmother wanted to take the sleeping pills, she wouldn’t have been able to. She had confined her grandmother to the torture of wasting away in agony because she refused to let go peacefully. Her world narrowed to a single point, a single dot of red that seemed to pulsate as she felt the burn on her shoulder, the constant twisting of daggers in her gut, the searing pain of guilt in her chest that came in pangs that coordinated with the beats of her heart. She felt her throat closing in on itself, forcing a scream from her throat before kneeling on the floor in exasperation, letting the tears fall as freely as the chain of sorries leaking from her lips - as if all her words had morphed into the one word as they filtered through between her teeth.

A metal door appeared next to her closet door, the same one that she saw at school. The music caught her attention as the door creaked open to reveal the man that had assaulted her the previous day.

“I see you’re eagerly on your knees now, my dearie,” he said in a booming, smug voice. Her grandmother’s eyes widened in fear, trying - and failing - desperately to get as far away from the man as possible. “I’m glad to see I did some good damage,” he commented.

“Fuck...you,” she gritted out, before jumping at the man, ready to claw out his throat.

“Now, now, buttercup, don’t be so rude to your new boss,” he scolded in a patronizing voice, twisting her arms behind her and easily overpowering her. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Why should I?” she gritted out.

“Because I can help your grandmother get better. I’ll give her back her mobility… _if_ you join me.”

She didn’t know what else she could do. She didn’t have anything left in her to fight. If she could right this wrong with her grandmother, maybe she would forgive her. She nodded before looking at her grandmother expectantly. He waved his hand in her direction, and slowly, the blossoms of colour retreated from the battered soul. The stump grew in size until it was a leg again. Her grandmother slept peacefully once again. She gave her a kiss on the forehead before walking away to step through the old metal doorway. Behind her, he smirked.

“Welcome to Mr. Burdock’s Angel Brothel - where pleasure never grows old.”

**Author's Note:**

> _History repeats itself - pay attention to class yo._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \--
> 
> Seriously tho, I hate nightmares >.>
> 
> But uh, did a few tweaks to make it work more like a short story.  
> \- The actual nightmare ended with the scream - I actually screamed in real life and woke my grandma up (oops).  
> \- There was no history lecture, but the staying too late and having to leave embarrassingly was there, so I added the history lecture to add to the story element.  
> \- The content of the lecture was actually just witnessing it happening, but I didn't know how to fit that into the story, so I fused it into a lecture.  
> \- There was no linking of the prostitution to the theatre leader, just wanted to use that to round things out, give the story an ending it (thankfully) didn't have in my version (I might've had legit anxiety if I had stayed in the nightmare for longer).


End file.
